


Prepare for Turbulence

by anaer



Series: Spasms [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), The Flash (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaer/pseuds/anaer
Summary: Dick just wants to live his life in peace.Wally, with his many terrible attempts at apology, is the opposite of peace.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Wally West, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: Spasms [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/561137
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	Prepare for Turbulence

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is. After entirely too long a wait (and, honestly, the first draft of this was done ages ago; it just took forever to sit and commit to the second draft), the next fic is finally here.

The first thing Richard John Grayson heard upon waking was a very irate, incensed voice right in his ear saying, _“So you’ll fuck in Bruce’s bed, but you won’t sleep with my wife?”_

The hero known to the world as Nightwing and most renowned for his stunning good looks (he’d been voted “Hottest Hero” three years running in _Teen Heroes Monthly_ , he was proud to say) took a moment to process both the voice and the words, furrowing his brow in a way that would go straight to the heart of any subscriber to that magazine. When the familiarity clicked, he groaned.

Wally.

Of course.

Dick yawned, cursing his morning instincts. If he’d been awake and had actually checked his caller ID, he would have avoided whatever nonsense this was and the oncoming headache he could already sense forming entirely.

“Those two things aren’t even remotely the same,” he finally managed. His voice wasn’t as strong as he’d have liked it to be; it was just too fucking early. Why was Wally even awake at – he checked his phone – six thirty in the morning? The Flash didn’t work! “How do you know about that anyway?” If the name Jason in any way came out of Wally’s mouth, Dick was going to have to seriously rethink his relationship. Love or not, there had to be lines drawn in the sand.

 _“Bruce,”_ Wally replied flippantly. Dick let out a breath of relief. _“He came raging into the Watchtower the other day, pulling me to the side and doing that weird thing with his face when it’s all red and looks like he’s giving himself an aneurysm? It always makes me wish I had a needle so I could poke him and watch his head pop like a balloon."_ Wally had such an interesting way with words, but Dick Grayson was entirely too tired to appreciate the rather accurate mental imagery that had been painted for him even if he did connect with it. _“He’s blaming me for some reason. Says it’s my bad influence.”_

Dick snorted. And then he remembered who he was talking to and scowled. He refused to find anything Wally said amusing ever again.

Wallace Rudolph West, a.k.a. The Flash a.k.a. the Fastest Man Alive (with some minor competition for the title) a.k.a. the current bane of Nightwing’s existence, refused to leave Dick alone. It had been nigh on four months since that fateful evening when Dick, content to have a pleasant lie in (lie in here meaning all night bang session) with a certain Red Hood a.k.a. Jason Peter Todd a.k.a. Batman’s problem child a.k.a. not related to Dick “even a little bit, Barbara; drop it already” had inadvertently stumbled upon his former best friend (read: Wallace Rudolph West) and his adopted father figure (one Bruce Thomas Wayne, may he never find peace in his life) on the verge of copulating (Bruce’s word) in his bed.

Just the memory of it made Dick want to scream.

Since that day, Wally had attempted to apologise on thirty-nine separate occasions in increasingly absurd and bizarre ways. The French chocolates straight from Paris had been appreciated. The offer to let Dick sleep with Linda Park-West, Wally’s equally devious other half, significantly less so.

 _“Did you really,”_ Wally continued, oblivious as usual to all the violent things Dick Grayson wished upon him, _“say revenge is a dick best served cold? ‘Cause he might be right. I’m kind of proud, to be honest.”_

That chafed something in Dick and woke him up fully. “I neither asked for nor want your opinion, _Wallace_. Are you calling for anything actually important? Aliens invading? Fate of the world at stake? Roy in bed with another supervillain?”

Roy really needed to stop having sex with supervillains. Of course, that was also what certain people (Barbara) were keen to tell Dick with regards to Jason, but as he was quick to remind them (her): the Red Hood was not a supervillain.

Dick’s words seemed to ignored something back up in his former friend as Wally was suddenly incensed again. _“What’s wrong with Linda, Dick? Why don’t you want to bang her? She wants this, okay!”_

Right.

That nonsense.

“Why the hell would I want to sleep with your wife?!”

“ _Is she_ unattractive _to you?”_ Wally was getting righteously indignant now. He’d always been a little too into Linda, in Dick’s professional opinion. Worshipping the ground she walked on didn’t fully encapsulate how completely over the top Wally West could get about his wife, especially considering they both fucked whoever else they wanted (which was still more information than Dick had ever needed about their sex life). Wally would no doubt come over here to try and fight him if he thought Dick was insulting her.

It was too early for this shit.

“She’s very attractive, Wally! Your wife is very attractive. She’s just not my type!”

_“She’s not your—are you kidding me? She’s not your type? Is it, what, is it a race thing? Is it because she’s Korean? Are you being racist, Dick? Linda is perfect. She is everyone’s type!”_

It was _way_ too early for this shit.

“’Not my type’ is being _married_ to my _best friend_!” Dick shouted into the phone.

 _“Aw, Dick, that’s actually kind of sweet of you,”_ Wally replied, suddenly all happiness and sunshine again, turned on a dime. Dick felt a particular kind of loathsome towards speedsters and their mercurial…everything, really.

He could not understand what he’d ever seen in Wally.

 _“Kind of stupid, honestly, because again: Linda’s perfect, but kind of sweet. Glad to know we’re still best friends; talk to you later, bye!”_ That last bit was out in a rush, too fast for Nightwing to get a word in edgewise. The phone clicked off as he was still processing, mouth open to rebut the assertion that they were at all friends right now.

That fucking crazy, manipulative little shit. Dick groaned, glaring up at the phone.

“What the hell is wrong with him,” he groused, turning over in the bed to ask…himself, apparently. The other half of the rather large, rather comfortable mattress he currently lay on was surprisingly empty. That explained the lack of grumbling and death threats he’d received answering the phone this early in the morning, or even just the lack of anyone attempting to smother him with a pillow to shut him up.

Jason’s murderous instinct was so cute sometimes.

Then again, this meant that Jason hadn’t come home at all last night. He scrolled through his messages to check that, no, he hadn’t texted either, a combination which was, to be perfectly candid, entirely too strange. Dick frowned. He glanced at the empty mattress then back to his phone. His frown deepened.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

 _“’Lo?”_ The voice on the other end of the line was familiar – intimately familiar, one could even say – but it wasn’t Jason’s.

“Roy?” Dick asked, confusion spilling out of him. He pulled the phone back from his ear and double-checked. Yes, he’d definitely called Jason.

 _“Hey, Dick,”_ his other, actual best friend replied through a yawn. _“’Sup? Why are you calling me so early?”_

“I’m not,” Dick returned flatly. “I’m calling Jason.”

 _“Jason?”_ Roy yawned again. _“Why would you call me then?”_

There was shuffling, and then another voice started in the background, distinctly annoyed in a way that could only be one Jason Todd: _“That’s my phone, dumbass.”_

 _“Oh, is it?”_ More shuffling, then a, _“Sorry, Jaybird,”_ from Roy which took Dick by surprise because _Jaybird_ followed by no gunshots? Even more shuffling, and then a slightly out of breath Jason finally came to the line.

 _“Oh, hey, Dick. What’s up?”_ He sounded casual. Too casual.

Dick knew that tone of voice. It was the same voice Jason had used when he was fourteen and had gotten smashed on one of the few nights Bruce had been out of town, ended up arrested, and called up his brand new older brother to come pay off the police. It was the same voice he’d used that time he’d casually dropped into conversation that he had, in fact, slept with Talia al Ghul at some point in the fairly recent past (after Damian already existed and good lord, that was disgusting to think about) while he’d been plotting to kill Bruce. It was the same voice he’d used to tell Dick about the last time he’d ‘accidentally’ murdered someone because wouldn’t you know, the therapist he’d gone to for very serious therapy (and not at all to look for trouble) had just _happened_ to turn out to be a serial killer who liked to cut up his patients so, really, Jason hadn’t had a choice.

Yeah, that voice meant nothing good. Roy being there only compounded it.

Good life choices and Roy William Harper had never once, in the entire history of man, had a working relationship.

“You didn’t come home last night,” Dick said slowly. He didn’t even try to keep the suspicion out of his voice. On the other end of the line, Jason coughed. More shuffling. Was there muffled screaming in the background?

_“I mean. You know. Superhero…stuff. Obviously. There’s nothing else going on. Why would there be anything else going on? I just…happened to run into Roy. You know, while…cleaning up the streets. Doing that vigilante do. As it goes. There’s nothing going on over here. We just did a thing. You know. The usual.”_

‘A thing’. Sure.

Let it be known for the record: Jason Peter Todd was terrible at sounding anything even approaching innocent. He and Roy sure seemed to be doing quite a lot of things over the course of the past few weeks, now that Dick thought about it. He sighed.

“Will you be home soon?” If Jason was up to no good – especially if he was dragging Roy into it (or if Roy were dragging him into it, who even knew at this point) – it didn’t do to try and corner him. Dick would find out eventually.

Hopefully before someone ended up dead.

 _“Yeah, in a bit,”_ Jason replied, not even bothering to keep the relief out of his voice.

“Cool. I’ll see you then.”

_“Yeah. Bye.”_

The phone clicked off. Dick stared at it, slumping back into the bed. First Wally, now Jason? Between the two of them, someone was going to kill him. He pulled the pillow over his face and screamed.

+++

“So what have you and Roy been up to?” Dick began without preamble when he finally saw Jason again that night. They’d missed each other all day as Dick unfortunately had to leave for his day job and go do some real policing before Jason had made it in. By the time he’d gotten home, it had been clear by the mess of firearms spread across the living room floor that Jason had come and gone. “Also, for God’s sake, stop leaving your munitions on the living room floor. I almost tripped over a grenade earlier.”

“I doubt that,” Jason groused, and then, “You know, you could actually help me.” He shot one of the fleeing arms dealers in the leg.

Dick surveyed the scene from where he sat perched on top of a crate. A dozen moaning – but alive! – bodies on the floor and four or five guys left who were actually stupid enough to keep trying to take hood on. Likely because Nightwing refused to get involved. Still, they’d really made a lot of progress with Jason’s murderous tendencies lately. Sex therapy did wonders – even if Barbara insisted that wasn’t therapy; they were _just_ having sex.

“Yeah, I could,” Dick replied. “But I’m admiring the view.” And then because he couldn’t resist, he added, “Jaybird.”

The next guy Jason punched in the face went down with extra force and the sharp crack of a broken jaw. “Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “You know how I feel about it.”

“Why? Roy calls you that. Why can he call you cutesy nicknames, but I, as your boyfriend, cannot?”

“Because,” Jason began, breaking off as he evaded another guy’s wildly swinging knife, “I can’t punch you in the face every time you say it as that’s considered ‘abusive’. Roy is this close to getting shot, though.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill the only best friend I have left.” The only good friend he’d ever had, apparently, but he was absolutely not going to ruin his mood right now thinking Wally Fucking West, the former best friend from _hell_.

“One: just make up with West already. I guarantee he’d be one hundred percent less annoying.”

Dick scoffed. “Of course, you’d take his side; I can’t believe you talk to him now. You know exactly what he did! He doesn’t deserve it.”

“ _Two_ ,” Jason continued, punching another guy as he spoke like Dick hadn’t contributed a salient point in the eternal ‘Wally West’ debate between them, “I never said I’d shoot Roy in the face, but he definitely does not need both legs.”

“You’re excessively sweet,” Dick said dryly.

“Dear God, please, just kill me,” one of the sprawled goons moaned. “Listening to this is more painful than my bullet wound.” He was abruptly knocked out by a flying escrima stick to the head, Dick’s only contribution to the fight. It was rude to interrupt when people were having a private conversation.

Jason knocked out the last guy and turned to face Dick. Dick made a concerted effort to get Little Dick under control. It was rather hard – hah! – because there was very little he found sexier than watching Jason beat up an entire room full of guys on his lonesome. Well, except maybe Jason taking his clothes off immediately after.

And, yes, Dick knew this was weird and accepted Barbara’s opinion that he should probably see a shrink. But honestly: violence was hot.

“So. You and Roy?”

Jason shrugged. “Would you believe me if I told you we’re in a book club together?”

“No,” Dick said simply. “Not even a little bit.”

Jason nodded thoughtfully. And then he said anyway, “We’re in a book club together.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

Dick couldn’t know for sure, but he strongly suspected that Jason was rolling his eyes under his helmet. And underneath the mask he wore under his helmet. Jason was so melodramatic sometimes. His boyfriend tried to play it off like hew as cool, but Dick saw him for the dork he really was inside.

“So are we going to fuck or not? Because I’m horny,” Jason said.

“Not, actually,” Dick replied sadly and for possibly the first time ever during the course of their entirely relationship. Jason scoffed in disbelief. Dick ignored it because, yes, sometimes he did turn down sex. Rarely, but it was known to happen. “I just wanted to see you since I hadn’t all day.”

“Fucking sap,” Jason muttered under his breath. Dick heard the affection that Jason would fully deny if pressed.

“I would, but I’m actually heading up to the Watchtower. The Flash – the one we _like_ – asked to meet me. He said it was important, and given we trust him – unlike Wally, who we don’t – I agreed.”

“Don’t know why you’re including me in that; I like West just fine, his bad taste aside.”

Dick’s eye twitched. Sometimes, Jason really pushed his patience, pushed him right up against the edge of what he was willing to tolerate in this relationship. But he was just so… _Jason_ that Dick couldn’t stay mad.

“But if you don’t wanna fuck, that’s your loss, man.”

And, indeed, it truly was Nightwing’s loss as the Red Hood was looking particularly fine tonight. Little Dick was feeling this loss rather acutely – right down to his soul.

He couldn’t put off potential world-saving for his dick.

He couldn’t.

Unfortunately.

Dick hopped down from his crate and strode over to Jason. “Look,” he said, grabbing both of Jason’s hands in his. He stared directly into where Jason’s eyes were about – or at least straight at his face. “Just…whatever you and Roy are up to, please just try not to kill anyone, okay?”

There was an unreadable silence that stretched between them for entirely too long before Jason replied, “I make no promises.”

Damn it.

“You’re exasperating, but I am magnanimous and choose to both overlook that and forgive you.”

Jason snorted. “You’re a sex addict,” he corrected, “And I’m the only one willing to put up with your ridiculous dick puns every time we fuck.”

Dick took the opportunity to unclasp Jason’s helmed and pull it off. And there it was, predictably, the stupid mask. Always.

“You love my dick puns,” Dick shot back, a bright grin suddenly lighting his face up beatifically. “You want dick all day, every day. Admit it, _Jaybird_.” That was worth it for the way Jason abruptly shoved away from him, disgusted and scowling.

“Call me that again, and we’ll see just how much dick I can live without in my life.”

“Spoil all my fun, why don’t you.”

Jason probably would have replied with something witty, but the second he opened his mouth, Dick saw his opportunity and grabbed it. He leaned over and planted his lips firmly over Jason’s, making sure to slip him some tongue. Jason – always quick on the uptake – recovered from his splutter in an instant and kissed back with equal fervor.

“Seriously, you guys, get a fucking room; no one wants to see this.” The goon from earlier seemed to be awake again. There were very real retching sounds, but then Dick had definitely given the man a concussion.

“Anyway,” Dick said when they finally separated, “I gotta go. I’ll see you at home later?”

Jason looked even more irritated, even as he said, “Yeah, fine, whatever.” Dick couldn’t help the accomplished smile on his face when – after grabbing his stick – he strolled away to he sounds of Jason grumbling under his breath about blue balls. Dick congratulated himself on a job well done.

+++

On the list of things Dick Grayson, Nightwing, expected upon reaching the headquarters of the Justice League (of America and others), nowhere did “being waylaid by an overly concerned Flash” sit. He’d expected to meet up casually. But alas, the moment he stepped foot on the tower, Dick was greeted by a blur of red appearing in front of him that almost had him running for the hills. Not that he would have made it. Or that there were any hills on the moon he could run to. A second glance, however, showed that the shade of red was slightly different – lighter – and the blur revealed itself to be a certain Barry Allen and not, thankfully, one Wally West. It was easy to mix the two of them up sometimes.

Barry Allen was also the Flash, though second to the name. Wally West worshipped the ground that Barry walked on, and it was easy to see why. Aside from the smorgasbord of problems Wally had with his own parents that had inadvertently elevated Barry to the winner of a competition he hadn’t realized he was in, Barry Allen was all the things Wally wasn’t, mashed up and molded into one objectively rather handsome looking body. He was sympathetic. Mentoring. Patient. A kind-hearted, honest, and good, moral sort of fellow who knew and _understood_ things like _boundaries_.

Barry Allen, unlike Wally West, was a decent human being.

Hell, as far as Dick was concerned, Barry Allen’s only fault was that he’d had a significant hand in shaping who Wally was as a person. Obviously, he’d failed horribly, even if no one _else_ saw it that way. Everyone else still seemed to think Wally was some kind of great guy they all liked. Dick, though, realized the truth here: Wally’s father was, in fact, conman levels of evil. There was very little Barry could’ve done to counteract that influence.

“Hey, Dick,” Barry greeted softly, concern evident in those bright blue eyes. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Well, you said it was pressing. Also, would you mind if we don’t go first name basis here? Flash?”

If it were Wally, he would’ve scoffed and made an offhanded comment about how they were on the Watchtower. That, or another ill-timed joke about him being a dick. Barry, though, as someone who knew what respect was, just nodded agreeably.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Barry’s serious expression suddenly turned somber. That was another high point over Wally, who had never once, in his entire life, learned what it was to be serious. His best friend walked in on him fucking said best friend’s father in said best friend’s bed, and all he could do was be a smarmy asshole. It was a miracle he’d ever found someone to fall in love and marry him. Dick feared for the future of the world given that Wally had managed to reproduce. Jai and Irey were adorable, sure, but they were Wally’s. As much as Dick loved them, he was afraid they were destined to be hellspawn at this point.

Linda had chosen to marry Wally. She willingly let him philander his way across the superhero community. He had no faith in her influence being better.

“Right,” Barry said. “Do you mind if I…?” The man didn’t wait for an answer. The next thing Dick was aware of was standing in the middle of a private meeting room. He blinked then scowled. Nightwing had always hated it when Wally did that; a different Flash didn’t make it any better. “It’s probably better if we speak in private,” Barry finished sagely.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. Now he was concerned. “What’s this about?”

Barry’s lips thinned. He sighed. “Well…I was speaking to Wally…”

“Wally?” Dick cut in. “What about Wally.” It wasn’t a question. His tone was dark, murderous the way he’d learned so well from Jason, and Barry’s eyes widened as he recognized that. The Flash raised his hands disarmingly and smiled.

“Nothing about Wally, uh… _specifically_. But, well, he told me a bit about, ah…about what’s going on with you.”

Dick very much doubted that. “Did he now?”

Barry nodded. Swallowed nervously. “Look. Dick.” He paused, and then corrected, “Nightwing. I…I respect you. I do. You’re a fine young man, and you’ve been a great friend to my nephew.” Dick could sense a ‘but’ coming which was extra disturbing given that he hadn’t the faintest clue where this was going. “And I’m…I’m flattered, really, that you, uh. That you…feel…that way about me.”

Wait, what?”

“But,” ah, there it was, “I can’t. No. _No_. It’s not that you’re not attractive or anything, don’t get me wrong. You’re a very attractive young man. I just don’t think there’s, uh…there’s anything between us. No offense, Nightwing. You’re just…young. Too young. It doesn’t seem appropriate for anything to happen here. I respect you, but…” Barry trailed off. Silence reigned, and then, quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Dick was flabbergasted.

“Are you…are you rejecting me?”

Barry looked truly pained as he nodded. “I am sorry,” he repeated. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone perfect for you one day. It’s just…not me.”

Dick floundered. Finally, he settled on what seemed the most pertinent thing here. “You’re rejecting me because I’m…I’m too young for you? Not because you’re _married_?!”

Barry cleared his throat nervously. “Well. I mean. You are young.” He was not. “You’re the same age as Wally.” Older, actually, by a couple years! “And Iris and I have an…arrangement, you could say, so it wouldn’t be honest to say it was because of my marriage.”

Dick was absolutely not focusing on the Flash family’s fucked up family values. He was not. Though, that did explain a lot of the rumours about Hal and Barry.

“What, exactly, did Wally tell you?” Dick asked faintly. He needed to sit down. He felt like he was about to collapse. Dick stood strong, focusing on what was important.

“That you wanted to, uh,” Dick could see Barry mentally filter out the language Wally had definitely used, “Sleep with me. To pit it lightly.”

“That I wanted to—? Oh, my God!” he shouted. “No. I’m gonna kill him. I swear, I’m going to _kill_ him!”

Barry looked concerned. He rested a hand reassuringly on Dick’s shoulder. “Look, don’t be mad at Wally. He’s your best friend. He was just trying to help.”

It was so naïve that Barry thought that. He had clearly been dead for too long; the afterlife had addled his brain. “No! He wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to help anyone but his own damn self! I don’t want to have sex with you, Barry!”

All the tension evaporated from the man at once. The Flash sagged, breathing out a faint, “Oh, thank God.”

“This is just Wally’s fucked up mind – pardon my French,” he interjected, remembering who he was speaking to, “trying to come up with another fucked up fix to get me to forgive him for something that is entirely his fault! In the worst way he possibly could’ve.” Dick stopped and took a breath. “Look, Barry. I do have a boyfriend. He’s great. He’s the only person I want to have sex with!”

“Well,” Barry nodded. “I’m, uh…I’m happy for the two of you.”

“And another thing: I’m not the one fucking mentors! Maybe you should ask your _precious nephew_ about what him and _Batman_ got up to in _my bed!”_

That caught Barry off guard. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Bruce and Wally,” Dick snapped, patience entirely gone, “are fucking.”

Barry went silent, a storm growing on his usually friendly face. It grew darker and darker, and honestly, Dick hadn’t realized it was possible for a face to turn so purple.

“Are you telling me that…that Bruce is—is taking _advantage_ of Wally?”

Oh, God.

“I think they’re actually taking advantage of each other,” Dick interjected. He was ignored.

“My…my poor nephew. I should’ve known there was something more going on. I expect this kind of behaviour from, say, Ollie!”

Wally would never sleep with Ollie. Even if his standards were nonexistent (which they very clearly were), Roy would shut that shit down fast, and given he was sleeping with Wally, too (thanks, Lian, for telling him about _those_ sleepovers), Wally was more likely to listen to him than to Dick. Unfortunately.

“But Bruce?” Barry continued. The horror in his voice was very real. He staggered over to a chair and collapsed, the heavy burden of shock too much for him to bear. “Wally doesn’t even like Bruce!” Barry fell silent before he suddenly burst back to his feet, eyes blazing with righteous fury.

“Bruce thinks this is okay? That he can just…just molest my nephew, and I’ll stand for it? I don’t know what he has over Wally. Do you know what he has over Wally?!”

His penis, Dick almost said. He opened his mouth to try and diffuse the situation.

“Maybe it’s a money thing!” Barry continued, too fast for Dick to get that word in edgewise. “Or maybe…the League? Did Bruce threaten to kick him out since I’m back now? Because they still have a Flash? If Wally doesn’t sleep with Bruce, he’ll kick him out of the League?”

It would take more than Bruce to kick Wally out of the League, especially since for some goddamned reason, everyone liked Wally. They definitely all liked Wally way more than they liked Bruce; if anything, they’d kick Bruce out first.

“That would cut off a good chunk of his family’s income! They need that money. Feeding two metahuman kids is expensive! Oh, and I suppose as long as Wally does what he wants, Bruce will supplement his income a bit, too. Of course, he’d do that for his family. That’s why Wally wouldn’t tell me!”

Barry didn’t seem to be able to make up his mind as to whether this was blackmail or a bribe. Worse, Dick was honestly starting to feel a bit offended on Bruce’s behalf which was damn irritating because Bruce didn’t deserve that.

“I will not stand for this,” Barry declared, something vicious and honestly kind of terrifying flashing through his eyes for a second. Dick suddenly remembered that Barry had once killed a man. He swallowed nervously as the Flash turned back to him. “Thank you, Dick, for telling me. I see now Wally sent me to you as a cry for help. Don’t worry, son: I’ll protect him.” And then Barry disappeared in a gust of wind, gone before Dick could correct him that, no, Wally was just a man-ho.

Nightwing stood there, torn between disbelief, bemusement, and fuming. Barry Allen vastly, vastly underestimated how much of a conniving fucktard his nephew was. Bruce would never blackmail anyone into sex! He didn’t have to!

No, he just liked to shit on the hopes and dreams and innocence of his oldest child.

Besides, Dick thought angrily, Wally was the one who didn’t know how to keep it in his fucking pants. Screw the whole League; he was going home, and then he’d never, ever, ever deal with anyone from the Justice League ever again, God help him.

Except maybe Clark.

And Roy.

And _possibly_ John Stewart.

+++

Jason was chilling on the couch when Dick got home, sprawled out with his eyes glued to the TV.

 _“Clown-away! By Ivy Industries!”_ the TV blasted, clearly playing that infomercial channel Jason loved to watch late at night. He was such a freak sometimes. _“The number one all-natural product guaranteed to keep all your clown problems away! Not guaranteed to work on the Joker.”_

“Hey,” Jason said, barely lifting a hand up in greeting. His eyes didn’t move once, and Dick pouted. He deserved to pout, though, because after the evening he’d had, the least he could use was a little attention from the boyfriend who had been neglecting him for days. But did he even get that much? Nope. Of course not.

He meandered over to the couch. “Hey, Jaybird.” That nickname was going to stick. “You would not believe the craziness that went down this evening.” Jason scowled, shoving Dick’s head away when he leaned over the back of the couch to try and plant a kiss square on Jason’s cheek.

“I’m watching this,” Jason huffed. “And don’t call me that.”

Now Dick was miffed. He groaned, but instead of leaving Jason alone the way he wanted, he abruptly flipped over the back of the couch and collapsed on top of Jason, crushing his paramour down with all the weight of the beautifully sculpted muscles in his body. And then he proceeded to wrap arms and legs around Jason like some kind of weird circus octopus, trapping the now-sputtering man in his strong hold.

“Why won’t you love me,” Dick moaned dramatically. The answer given was completely unsuitable for children’s ears. Luckily, there were no children around. Jason kept cursing, a feat made extra impressive given that his face was smashed up against Dick’s chest. Dick moaned louder and squeezed tighter.

Jason cursed even more fervently, exclaiming, “Get the fuck off me!” as he attempted a bunch of futile wiggling. Finally, he managed to get a knee free from where it had been trapped between Dick and the back of the couch and jabbed Dick hard in the side. Dick yelped and rolled off him. Unfortunately, he had forgotten how small the couch was, and there was nothing but air to cushion him as he crashed down into the floor.

“Ow,” he said.

Jason laughed loudly because Jason was, despite how much Dick loved him, a truly terrible person. Dick needed to stop surrounding himself with those. At least he’d purged himself of most of them: Wally and Bruce were dead to him. He was unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, he was gracious enough to admit) stuck with Jason forever.

“Dumbass.”

“If I am,” Dick said as he pulled himself up until he was sitting, “it’s only because my heart is dumb with love for you.” He paused then added, “And everyone knows I have a great ass.”

“God, shut up.” The TV flipped to another channel, and Jason exclaimed loudly. “I’m watching that!”

Dick pulled the remote out from underneath his butt. Jason grabbed for it, but Dick jerked his hand back, determined not to lose out to infomercials so easily. His day was much more interesting and much more exciting. Jason needed to care, damn it. “I’m trying to tell you something important!”

Jason snatched the remote back as a loud flushing suddenly echoed through the whole apartment. Dick frowned. Jason's eyes flicked away suspiciously. The bathroom door opened, and Roy walked out, wiping one hand on his shirt while the other held a book he was concentrating hard on.

“I don’t know, man; I thought about what you said, but I kind of agree with Wally. Jade did murder a bunch of people, though, so Harper is probably better off—”

Maybe the silence caught his attention because he glanced up then, shoving the book behind his back not at all suspiciously.

“Oh, hey, Dick. You’re back early.”

“Roy,” Dick greeted. He turned back to his boyfriend, who was looking idly at the wall, the floor, the ceiling, and generally anywhere but at Dick. “Jason. You didn’t tell me Roy was here.”

Roy coughed. “Well, I was. You know. Just leaving?” He coughed again. “Jason has just been helping me with…a thing…with…,” he faltered for a second, “Cheshire! Yes. You know Jade, always down for…murdering people. Wally’s been telling me I should…” That was the end of Roy’s attempts at bullshitting. It was a weak one, all things considered: two out of ten, he could do better.

“Right,” Dick said flatly. “ _Jade_. What’s Wally been ‘telling you’?” He made the actual air quotes.

“That I should, uh…not…sleep with her again…?”

“It’s true,” Jason added in. “He really shouldn’t.”

Dick ignored him. “And what’s behind your back?”

“Nothing?”

“ _Roy_. _Harper_.”

He laughed nervously. “Just some light bathroom reading, you know. Nothing you’d be interested in. Definitely not the latest _Native Arrow_ book.”

“You’re reading that drivel?!” Dick demanded, spinning around to glare at Jason.

“Seriously?” Jason snapped at Roy. “I told you not to tell him! He’s weird about these books.”

If Wally didn’t make Dick’s head explode, the combination of Jason, Roy, and _Babs fucking Jordan_ , world renowned author, definitely would.

“Yeah, well, Dick’s weird about everything! I can’t even mention Wally around him anymore without his head doing—that,” Roy shot back. Dick pressed fingers against his temples and tried not to scream. “These books are amazing, Dick! She really gets to the core of who Harper is, although I can see why the Walter-Wayne subplot might not be your speed. It definitely felt a little shoehorned in to this last novel.”

“What the fuck, Roy?!” That was Jason, glaring with all the fury of Dick’s heart every time he thought of Wally.

“Book club,” Dick muttered under his breath. “Book club, fucking—goddamn _book club_.” He would be calm. He could be calm. There was no reason to be upset; Jason wasn’t hiding anything murderous, it seemed. That was the good news.

“I’m just saying, they’re great books, and an excellent deconstruction of a lot of the racist stereotypes these types of romance novels love to—”

“Roy, get out of my house,” Dick said evenly.

Roy rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jaybird.”

Jason coughed. “For book club.”

Roy glanced back at Dick, then smiled a smile so convincing it could only be fake. “What else?”

The door slammed shut behind him. Dick glared at Jason.

“Book club?”

Jason shrugged. “You’re the one who didn’t want to believe me.”

“I _still_ don’t believe you.” That had to have been timed for him. Jason and Roy were both too smart for that, but Dick was smarter. They were trying to irritate him off balance, weren’t they?

He’d figure out what they were up to yet.

“Well, yeah, that’s—wait. _Wait_.” His eyes were wide, suddenly staring back at the TV that Dick had forgotten was on. “Why is the Flash trying to murder Batman on live TV?”

Dick wasn’t even in the mood for that. He stared at Jason blankly, but Jason wasn’t looking at him. He was just pointing a finger at the screen.

“It’s not _that_ much of a surprise. Wally was bound to try and murder Bruce at some point,” Dick shrugged. “They’re both insufferable, but Wally’s temper is shorter, and if they’re getting that much close-up time together—” They both blanched. Really, Dick had done that to himself; he absolutely needed to stop thinking about the things he didn’t want to know about. “My point being Bruce, much like he does everyone, pisses Wally off…in…particular…”

Except…Wally wasn’t the Flash who was mad at Batman, was he? Wally was the easy initial assumption, sure, except that Barry had had that crazy look in his eyes as he’d babbled incoherently about all the terrible things he now assumed Bruce was forcing Wally into. Except, as he turned to the TV, the headline read _Superhero Showdown_ as the very completely sane Barry Allen had his hands wrapped around Batman’s neck. Whatever he was saying was inaudible nonsense for however fast he was saying it.

Jason clicked the volume up on the remote, completely enraptured.

“—live on the scene where the Flash, we’re not quite sure which one, seems to be attempting to murder Batman for reasons yet to be determined—”

“Yes!” Jason cheered. “You go, Flash! Take him out!”

Dick sighed. Maybe Jason’s murderous tendencies weren’t quite as dealt with as he’d hoped.

Another blur passed the reporter on the screen, and then there were two Flashes on the scene as Wally very unsuccessfully attempted to pull Barry off of Bruce. “Live TV; Live TV!” Wally was shouting. “If you’re gonna kill him, do it off camera! You can’t beat a second murder charge, that’s pushing it!”

“—now this is an interesting turn of events,” the reporter continued, unperturbed. “It seems the other Flash has shown up to…well, it doesn’t seem like he’s really trying that hard to stop this? I’m not sure what’s happening here entirely, but—”

Dick grabbed the remote back and clicked. Silence flooded the room.

“So,” he said. “It’s entirely possible that I may or may not have accidentally made Barry Allen believe that Bruce is a sexual predator today. How was your evening?”

Jason stared at him for five long seconds. And then he started cackling and didn’t stop for a very, very, very long time.

+++

“Does this make you happy?”

There were many things that made one Nightwing happy: snuggling nestled in bed with Jason too asleep to protest the cuddling. Getting featured on the cover of _Teen Heroes Monthly_ every month for a year when he’d been nineteen. Jason’s ass. Watching Bruce get punched in the face. Jason doing something that wasn’t getting into mysterious, undetermined amounts of trouble with Roy. Mint-chocolate cupcakes decorated with icing shaped like an adorable baby kitten face. Fucking Jason. That time he’d successfully snuck out of the mansion as a kid without Alfred ever finding out. Finding out that Jason was a surprisingly good cook and getting to eat that at least three times a week. Having friends he could _rely on_ to have his back in any situation and _trusting them completely_.

Lots of things made Dick Grayson happy.

Waking up at fuck knows what time in the morning to bright lights clicking on and the sight of one forever cursed Wallace Rudolph West standing over him, arms crossed and fuming? No, that did not make him happy. That would never make him happy.

“Did you break into my apartment?” His voice was muffled against the pillow as he squinted up at Wally’s bright green glare. Was it his imagination, or did it look like Wally’s eyes were on the verge of sparking? “What time‘s’it?”

“Too fucking early.” Jason’s voice was even more muffled, face completely smothered by the pillow he had pulled over it to block out the light. “I will _shoot you_ , West.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Wally snapped back. “What the fuck did you say to Barry? Do you know how long it took to get him to stop trying to murder Bruce?!”

“Shit, he didn’t kill him?” Jason whined.

Dick punched him in the arm. “Shut up; you’re not helping.”

Groaning as he realized there was absolutely no way he was going to get anymore sleep until Wally was dealt with – Wally, who looked just the same as the last time he’d seen him, except with more clothes on, thank God, even if he was once more in Dick’s bedroom and—nope, he couldn’t think more than that. Dick pulled himself up and out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one arm as he poked Wally in the chest, right over the stupid dumb lightning logo on his t-shirt.

Wally could make whatever the hell clothes he wanted out of his stupid dumb speed force magic. Why was he still wearing Flash-branded merchandise? God, he was so full of himself.

And here was another terrible thing about Wally, too: who the hell thought it was a good idea to always gift people your own brand’s merchandise? Did he give Bruce Flash-themed underwear as gifts?

Goddammit, he needed to stop planting those thoughts into his own mind.

“You are not welcome in my _bedroom_ , Wallace. Or do you need a reminder of what happened the last time you were in it! Because I still remember!” He would never forget. Bruce naked with Wally was seared into his nightmares for all eternity.

“What the fuck did you say to Barry?” Wally repeated. “And why does he think Bruce is _blackmailing me_ into sex?”

It was not at all Dick’s fault that the whole Flash family was certifiably insane. And speaking of which: “What did _I_ say to Barry? What did _you_ say to Barry? Why the fuck does your uncle think I want to fuck him, Wally?!”

“Wait, what?” Jason interjected. Right, Dick hadn’t managed to get around to that part of the story with him over the nonstop laughter. And then, Jason added, “You know what? I don’t care. Fight in the living room and turn the fucking lights off; some of us are trying to get some goddamn sleep.”

Dick was also trying to get some goddamn sleep, thank you very much, but before he could say as much to Jason, he was in the living room because Wally West was still the Flash, third of the name or not, and still too fucking fast.

“Don’t touch me,” Dick snapped, yanking his arm free of Wally’s grip.

“So, what, Linda’s not good enough for you, but Barry’s also not good enough for you? What the fuck is it you even want, Dick? To ruin my life?!”

“I mean, that would be a good start, yes, I think!” Dick shouted back. “What is even wrong with you? You’re mad because I don’t want to sleep with your wife – who you are _married_ to – or your uncle – who is married to _your aunt_? Do you even listen to yourself when you speak?”

“We both know that I don’t!”

Goddammit, and why was Wally always so self-aware? It made him even more aggravating that he was cool with things like ‘apologising’ and ‘admitting when he was wrong’, even if his sense of normal people interactions were apparently so far screwed up and twisted around inside his ass that he thought _Dick_ was the problem for not wanting to _sleep with Wally’s wife_.

Linda was not at all the sane one in the relationship. She was just as crazy if she’d agreed to marry him.

Dick would sooner sleep with Wally again before he’d sleep with someone who would willingly marry that mess of a man, and that was not something he would ever do or even speak of ever again.

Ever.

Besides, Titan trysts didn’t count.

“Barry is trying to ground me!” Wally shrieked, yanking angrily at the hair on his head. “He told me I am ‘not allowed to see Bruce’, Dick. Because he thinks Bruce is molesting me! He’s everywhere now. He’s overbearing and nearly impossible to escape. I can barely get two seconds alone with Linda. You did this. _You_.”

Dick couldn’t help it. To be fair, Dick didn’t even try to fight it. The smile cracked over his face, suddenly gleeful at the thought of Wally suffering through Barry’s overprotective, definitely insane ministrations. Yes, he’d done this, and he was damn proud of it, too, now he’d seen the results. And now that Bruce wasn’t, you know, murdered or anything. That would’ve been a slightly undesired outcome for anyone who wasn’t Jason. Then again, Jason did have a weird thing where he was convinced everyone who died came back to life now, so Dick wasn’t even sure how much he really meant ‘dead’ dead sometimes.

“Hell yeah, I did. And you know what? You _deserve_ it. Revenge, baby.” Dick smiled tight-lipped and smug, crossing his arms across his chest.

Wally fumed. His eyes really were crackling now. “You couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you? Just say no to him: that’s all you had to do. I tried to do something nice for you to apologise – like I’ve been apologizing for months – but, no. Nothing I do is good enough. I tried the normal apologies first, you remember? I tried them! I gave you space! I didn’t even bother you for, like, two whole weeks at the start. I didn’t come over. And you’re the one who suggested that Barry would be the same thing to make it up to you! So I tried to make things even, and you could’ve just said no!” Now it was Wally’s turn to jab Dick in the chest. “You know how crazy Barry is! He can’t ground me! I’m married with two fucking kids, Dick! I have children! I ground _them_. I don’t get grounded!”

Dick really couldn’t help it. He cackled the way Jason had cackled at him earlier. In all fairness, some people – not anyone in particular, and certainly not the all-seeing, all-knowing, not-that-great author Barbara Gordon – might have had a point that Jason was rubbing off on him ever so slightly too much.

Wally stopped then, his flailing arms settling down to his sides. Calm. Thinking. “I was trying to apologise,” he said evenly. Quietly. Dick stopped laughing. “I wanted to make nice. You know, you’re my best friend. I fucked up. I can admit that. But you know what?”

Wally grabbed a pillow off the couch and hurled it at Dick’s face. It bounced off his nose and fell to the ground. Dick stared at it, feeling immediately, intrinsically offended.

“I’m done trying to make nice. No more. No. Not anymore. This right here? It’s war.”

“Oh, is it?” Dick shot back. “You just decided that? It’s been war for me, West!”

He snatched up a pillow himself, chucking it at Wally as hard as he could. Wally caught it easily and sent it flying back. It bounced off Dick’s nose again and fell to the floor. Dick tried again, same result. And again. And—oh. The couch only had four cushions. He grabbed one off the floor and ran at Wally wildly, not quite yelling as he attempted to hit him over the head.

Wally dodged.

Of course he fucking did.

“Stay still and let me hit you!”

Wally did stay still, but only to settle next to the door for long enough to say, “I swear to God, for every day of my life that Barry makes me miserable, you _will_ suffer. You’ll pay for this.”

And then he was gone.

“Bring it!” Dick shouted and hurled the pillow at the door. It fell to the ground with a distinctly unsatisfyingly faint thud. He scowled at it and turned back to the bedroom, kicking the other pillows out of the way as he went.

“That sounds like it went real fucking well,” Jason said, voice droll as Dick slipped under the covers.

“Oh, he’ll get his,” Dick said viciously.

“…Right,” Jason replied. Dick pretended like he did not hear Jason mutter something about how they just needed to ‘make the fuck up already’ as his ever-so-wrong lover turned back over to go back to sleep.

What the hell did Jason know, anyway? He was spending all his free time with Roy lately. That was shit for learning good decision-making. Besides, Jason never let a grudge go. Bruce didn’t kill the Joker one time, and he was still holding it over his head. It didn’t even seem to matter that Bruce had tried. Had anyone actually told Jason Bruce had tried? Whatever. The point was: Jason didn’t know shit. It wasn’t necessarily his brains that Dick was attracted to.

(Not that he would ever imply such a thing to his actually really, truly quite smart lover’s face.)

If Wally wanted to make it war? Good. Dick looked forward to it. Wally was faster, sure, but Dick could confidently say he was clearly a hell of a lot smarter. He would never bang his best friend’s dad. Although, granted, Wally’s dad was fairly unappealing, all things considered, and Wally was way too cool with the idea of him and Barry, so…no. Not the point.

The point was this:

The Flash was his arch-nemesis now.


End file.
